HIS FLOWER

CHAPTER ONE

FLORIA

Lexicographers say nightmares are a frightening or unpleasant dream that occurs during sleep, often accompanied by strong emotions such as fear, anxiety, or terror. But in my case, they are accompanied by pain, guilt, regret, remorse, self-loathing, contempt, anguish. The list goes on and on.

It is my frequent reminder that my life is useless, that I'd be better off dead, aside from my father, who has made it his life's mission to not only tell me but demonstrate. His words echo in my mind: "You're worthless, Floria. You'll never amount to anything."

A chill lights down my spine, and I shudder in my spot on my tiny, old, worn-out bed. The nightmares that have plagued me for years, only coming in different forms, each one a haunting reminder of my past.

A recollection of what I had dreamt of: watching the bodies of my mum, brother, and little sister emitting smoke till it formed a cloud over them. The endless cries as they begged for help taunted me. It felt so real, like it was happening all over again. But this time I got the front seat to watch them, being burnt alive, roasted like animals over a camp fire.

I shoot out of bed, gasping, and dash to the bathroom to dip my face under the running tap, hoping to wash away my nightmares. The cold water stings my skin, but it's a welcome respite from the hellish visions.

The whip splitting on my body barely registers, as the pounding and twisting of my heart took over. I could cry to ease the pain, but I've run out of tears after crying myself to sleep from my weekly dose of my father's belt. The physical pain is nothing compared to the emotional torment.

I sigh in relief when my tiny alarm goes off, signaling for me to get ready for my job as a waitress somewhere in the heart of the city. It's my sanctuary, my escape from the chaos at home.

I quickly hop in the shower, eager to get to work and do the one thing that makes me happy - making others happy. It's the one thing that genuinely makes me happy, along with the fact that I get to hang out with my best friend, Ivory.

"Girl, you're so late. What happened?" she queries, worry lines marring her beautiful face.

"I'm so sorry, I woke up late," I lied, knowing I wouldn't hear the last of it if I told her I had to walk half the distance because I didn't have transport fare - well I did until my father decided I didn't deserve it and took it.

"You're lucky Miss Frederick just arrived," she informs, smirking at me, knowing that would send me into a frenzy.

"Oh shoot!"

"Yes, fuck!" She snickers. "Go change, I'll cover for you." She throws my uniform at me, and it hits me square in the face. She lets out a cute giggle at my predicament before gently shoving me in the direction of the changing room.

"Get in that fucking restroom so you can bring your cute little ass back here on time."

"No swearing, Ivy!" I warn, laughing.

"Whatever you say, Angel Lori Rosebud," she teases, and I huff in frustration at her sorry excuse for a pet name.

How she came up with that awful combination is beyond me. According to her, Lori is short for my name, Floria, and Rose is my actual middle name. Then angel is simple because I'm her cute little angel. Ridiculous if you ask me, since we're the same age. But I love it because it's special, and she's special to me.

"Girl, you look dang good in that cutesy piece!" Ivory whistled, and we both giggled, fully immersed in our work. My stomach grumbled a quiet reminder that I'd yet to feed it, but I ignored it, dusting off a recently vacant table and setting it for prospective customers.